


Strange meetings in sleepless nights

by EnlacingLines



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dimitri needs sleep, Dimivain Week (Fire Emblem), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlacingLines/pseuds/EnlacingLines
Summary: Dimitri really needs more sleep. It’s not a good sign that he’s imagining cute red-heads calling him gorgeous in the middle of the night. He is most certainly never mentioning this to his friends; he’s older and wiser now.For day 4 of Dimivain week 2020: College AU
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 15
Kudos: 156





	Strange meetings in sleepless nights

**Author's Note:**

> More Dimivain for Dimivain week! This is just mainly fluff. I love these two idiots. 
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta Valania, you are brilliant. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The numbness of exhaustion has spread to every limb, Dimitri’s head starting to pound as he shuffles his way back towards his dorm. It takes him two tries to get his ID card through the swiping mechanism, only just curbing the strength of his grip enough to make sure he doesn’t snap his sixth card this semester. 

Thursdays are the worst day. It’s creeping past 3am, his second late night shift this week after a full day of classes. His sleep schedule is bad at the best of times, but it’s two months into this new routine, and even he is starting to suspect this had been a bad idea. 

He’s only covering for Ashe this semester, working a few of his shifts at the bar which he isn’t able to do due to a last minute acceptance into a study abroad opportunity. The manager had stated if he could find someone to cover his shifts for six months he’d be able to keep his job, and Dimitri doesn’t mind helping out. 

But it’s tiring, and he’s once again struck by how Ashe has managed to do this for the past two years, while he’s been doing it for two months and is already suffering. He’s keeping up with classes just fine, but the sleep deprivation is hitting him hard. 

It also means he starts craving meals at strange hours; he drags himself straight to the kitchen, not even bothering to take off his coat as he grumbles under his breath at the harsh fluorescent lights, before going to his locker to scavenge for food. 

Ramen is the only thing his tired mind and drained body have the energy to create, so he grabs a saucepan, fills it with boiling water from the dispenser, and set it on the hob. The package slips in his fingers, digits refusing to cooperate, so he glares at the plastic before biting the end, feeling satisfied with the way it rips open as he pulls at it with his teeth. 

It’s only as he drops the dried noodles into the water and looks up does he notice the other person in the room. 

He blinks, vision strangely swimming to make sure he is actually seeing another person, but the scene doesn’t change. Sitting on the far end of the table is a man, shock of red hair flopping over his face, book in one hand, pen in the other. He’s staring at Dimitri with a look which might be horror on his face, which Dimitri figures he probably deserves for just walking into the room, saying nothing, and tearing open ramen with his teeth. 

The presence of someone else throws him off guard, and he doesn’t know how to rectify the situation. It’s an odd time for someone else to be awake, and this man isn’t anyone he’s met before. Dimitri can’t say he’s the most social of everyone in his dorm, but he thought he knew everyone’s name; yet this person is completely unfamiliar to him. 

Before he can try to dredge up some manners from his tired brain, the man winks. Actually winks at him, unmistakable even at this distance. 

“Your noodles are boiling over, handsome,” he says, a laugh in his words and a smile on his face. 

And that smile is just so encompassing, it fills the room with it’s blinding sweetness and the tease of his words, as this persons leans slightly on his hand with his elbow resting on the table and he stares at Dimitri. 

There’s something so dazzling about being on the receiving end of a look like that which means the words take a moment to penetrate, and Dimitri curses when he looks down to see that yes, in fact his noodles are boiling over. 

A laugh floats through and Dimitri ducks his head, hair falling to cover his blush, grateful he has this escape and internally cursing that he blushes so easily. He busies himself with sorting out the ramen, which is now most certainly cooked, and actually find himself a bowl rather than eating out of the saucepan which had been his initial intention. 

Once finished, Dimitri doesn’t really know what to do. He glances up, sees the man has started scribbling in a small notebook, attention completely focused on whatever he’s now doing. Part of Dimitri is oddly disappointed, but relief is the overwhelming emotion. He swiftly grabs the bowl, remembers a fork (having forgotten once once and always regretted the time he ate noodles with his hands, mostly as Felix brings it up at every opportunity), and attempts to slink out of the room. 

“Sweet dreams, gorgeous,” calls the man just as Dimitri sweeps out, causing him to stumble a little on the way to his room. 

He fumbles his card once more, stomach growling at the promise of food, mind repeating the same word over and over. 

_Gorgeous._

Dimitri manages to get into his room, and recalls with a slight choke this is the second time the man used such language to describe him, the ‘handsome’ having escaped him the first time with the need to sort out his over-boiling pan. 

As he turns on the light and shrugs off his coat, he catches sight of himself in the small mirror on the wall. He makes a face; his hair is half tangled from the wind, eyes dark rimmed from the days without rest, lips chapped from the cold. He looks anything but handsome or gorgeous, and sighs to himself. 

It’s not worth thinking about for too long anyway, a mysterious stranger that appears at 3.30am telling him he’s handsome while he cooks ramen. It doesn’t even sound remotely real, he thinks as he practically inhales the food.

As he starts getting ready for bed, he wonders if it was real. He’s been in these dorms for months, and he’s never seen that red-head before. It wouldn’t be the first time imagining things when sleep deprived, but it is somewhat of a strange thing to hallucinate. 

He settles under the covers and his mind shuts down almost instantly, all thoughts of the flirt with the wonderful smile almost banished as he succumbs to slumber. 

* * *

On waking, the only evidence of the meeting is his now empty bowl, which he washes up as quickly as he can in the morning. As he enters the kitchen, Dimitri greets one of his dorm mates, Mercedes, who blinks at him.

“Dimitri, it’s twelve—it’s really not morning anymore. Are you feeling okay?” she asks. 

He winces, checking the time and seeing she’s correct. He has class in an hour, he should definitely shower and eat before he goes.

“I’m well, thank you. I was wondering, has anyone new moved in recently?” he asks, as Mercedes of all people is probably the most informed of these type of things. 

She frowns. “No, why do you ask?” she says. 

Dimitri shakes his head, putting on a smile, but a little worried for his own sake. Only those with a key card can get into the building, and if there is no one new…

Dimitri really needs more sleep. It’s not a good sign that he’s imagining cute red-heads calling him gorgeous in the middle of the night. He is most certainly never mentioning this to his friends; he’s older and wiser now. 

So he puts it out of his mind, chalks it up to a series of bad health related decisions on his side, and gets on with life. That is, until once again another Thursday a few weeks later. For as usual, Dimitri’s promises to take better care of himself have fallen down the wayside. 

This time though, it’s mostly due to a tricky paper. But he worked late the night before and has been studying all day, yet he’s still working away at 2am in his dorm room. His back aches from hunching over his laptop, but the presentation part is almost done, which will save him from at least some of the angry messages from Felix in the morning. 

He stretches, eyes dry and sticking, cursing how small all the university furniture is, and decides that seeing as he’s already doomed himself he may as well make another coffee to push through the night. 

As usual, the hallway is quiet. They are all third years here, so the actual studying part of university has taken precedence, and for those going out it’s a middle time before most places close, so he’s not surprised. That is, until he makes his way to the kitchen, and sees the light on. 

The smell hits him next, dissolving any thought that it might have been left on by accident. Spices, something quietly sizzling that makes his taste buds water. Dimitri isn’t great at identifying ingredients seeing as his sense of taste is exceptionally muted, but the aroma is vaguely familiar, and yet not one he’s smelt in a while. A few of the others in his dorm do cook from scratch, but it’s a rarity, especially now that they've reached the midway mark of the semester where most of them have deadlines. 

Cooking a full meal at 2am though? That is strange, so he approaches with as much caution as possible, peering around the doorway. He just about stops himself from gasping when he does. 

It’s him. The red-head from before, cooking up a storm in the middle of the night. He’s humming to himself while stirring a pot, and Dimitri sees there’s a discarded laptop and three books on the kitchen table. The smell of cooking makes his nose itch and his stomach grumble, even though before he’d just been interested in coffee. 

The man must be almost done, for he’s turning the heat down on the pan and has taken out a bowl and cutlery. As he starts gathering these together, the humming is accompanied by a dance, the movements oddly graceful despite the absurdity and the size of him. 

_He’s ridiculous. It’s quite adorable_ , Dimitri thinks, then has to mentally prevent himself from going any further. At least this time, although he’s tired, he’s almost sure the person is real, even if it’s entirely impossible for him to be here. 

“Don’t be shy, handsome. If you want some, I’m happy to share.” 

Dimitri is so taken aback by the sudden address he knocks his head on the door frame in attempt to duck away. He winces as the world rings for a moment. 

“Uh, hey, are you okay?” the man calls, and Dimitri sighs as he rubs the side of his head. 

“I’m fine, thank you. And err, there’s no need. I just came for coffee,” he admits, not mentioning he’s been just standing in the door frame watching this person dance, hum and cook for entirely too long. 

He shuffles forward into the room, feeling suddenly awkward and lost, not knowing what to do or say. The man’s eyes flicker downwards once as he does, then a smile appears. 

“Wouldn’t actual food be better than coffee right now?” he asks and Dimitri picks up his favourite mug, adds coffee and trudges past the man to the hot water dispenser. 

Up close, Dimitri can see he’s tall; they’re almost the same height, which is a rarity. He’s wearing a green t-shirt that’s stretching across his shoulders perfectly, or so it seems in Dimitri’s sleep addled brain. Clearly he takes care of himself, and Dimitri has to stop himself too much from seeing how his biceps move in the top. 

He instead glances up, sees the man watching him with a grin, and clears his throat. 

“No, no, coffee is all I need,” he says, and swiftly turns back to fill his cup, still managing notice the warmness in his eyes, a light brown shade that contrasts nicely with the brightness of his hair. He is, Dimitri admits to himself, especially pleasing to look at. 

_You should not be checking out strangers in the kitchen in the middle of the night_ , he chides himself as the liquid reaches the brim, the satisfying and enticing aroma of coffee perking him up instantly. He quickly grabs milk and sugar, hyper aware of the person who is now actually lounging on the counter, t-shirt riding up every so slightly so that Dimitri’s eyes are trapped inspecting the tiny glimpse of skin. 

He once again looks up. The man lifts his eyebrows and grins, causing Dimitri’s breath to catch and his face to heat. He’s been caught, it’s so painfully obvious he caught the direction of his stare and Dimitri half wants to apologize but that means publicly admitting it, so decides to just make a hasty exit. He’s almost at the door when he hears the call. 

“Hey, gorgeous, I was serious about dinner. I’ll put some in a container and leave it in the fridge okay? It’s the blue one. Wouldn’t want you to starve,” he says. 

Dimitri turns back, eyes widening. “No, please, that’s completely unnecessary,” he says. 

The man laughs. “So is the amount of food I’ve made. Seriously, have some, whenever you’re done with...whatever it is you’re doing,” he says with a laugh. 

That laugh is a lyric part formed, and Dimitri wishes to hear the rest of the song, know every way this person can lilt and turn their voice depending on emotions and meaning. And that longing punches him straight in the stomach and causes his head to spin so fast he doesn’t know what to do. 

So he manages a smile, bows and leaves, almost running straight to his room as fast as he can without spilling his coffee

Only to stop, just as he’s clicked the door shut, in absolute horror. He’d _bowed._

“Why did I do that?” he whispers, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror. 

He blinks, steps closer and realises on top of the disaster that is his conversation with the attractive man in the kitchen, he’d spent the whole time with his shirt on inside out. It could be worse, he supposes. At least he was wearing one. 

That grim thought leads him back to his presentation, and downs the coffee in two gulps before he blocks out any other thoughts and powers through with his work. He sends the completed slides to Felix at 4.45am, then turns around and passes out face first on his bed. 

When he awakens it’s almost 5 hours later, and he strangely feels worse than he did when he went to sleep. 

“Dimitri, your shirt’s inside out and... Wow, your eye-bags look terrible. Are you not sleeping?” Hilda says as he walks into the kitchen. 

The mention of the shirt has him closing his eyes in almost physical pain as he moves to the fridge in search of something, anything to eat. As he opens the door, his eyes fall on the blue container, hand shaking as he reaches out to touch it. 

Solid, real. He opens it, and realises it’s Saghert and Cream, his favourite from childhood which he’s not had in so long, and part of him feels like it melts. As Hilda peers around behind him and asks if he’s okay and offering him eye cream, Dimitri smiles a little to himself. At least now he’s sure he’s not hallucinating. 

* * *

Weeks pass, and Dimitri finds himself stumbling home on another late night, mind barely functioning, energy focused on putting one foot in front of the other to get back to his dorm. Tonight, it started raining on his way home. And not just a small shower, but sheets of an incessant downpour; even though he manages to find the shelter of the bus stop, he’s already soaked from head to toe, hair leaking freezing droplets down the neck of his somehow useless coat. His dorm isn’t far, but it’s raining so hard he is better off seeking shelter until it calms a little. 

It’s dark under the bus stop, and even though they run into the small hours on campus, there’s no light to be seen. He grimaces at his wet sleeves, cold hands gripping the edges of the material, wringing it out and causing puddles to appear. Dimitri huffs and shakes his hair, water flying everywhere as he does. 

He freezes when there’s a yelp. 

He looks up through his bedraggled hair to see a figure holding their hands up, blue glow of a phone screen the only light. He swiftly parts his hair, trying to see the person he’s accidentally splattered. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you without the light,” he says. 

The light shifts and Dimitri’s eyes widen as he realises it’s him. The mysterious, imaginary man who had been in his dorm kitchen twice in these past few weeks. 

Well, perhaps not so imaginary, but still mysteriously appearing as if from nowhere. 

The man smiles, and even with the illumination of a phone, it’s that radiant glow. 

“Well, if I have to get splashed, all the better to be by you. We meet again, it seems,” he says, offering what can only be called a flirty grin, even recognisable to Dimitri. 

He swallows, feels himself unexpectedly warming from the inside. This is a usual circumstance; he doesn’t normally find himself on the receiving end of such blatant flirtations. His dating history so far is scarce, a few short lived attempts at relationships near the end of high school and one in his first year of university. He just isn’t sure what to do now. 

The man however, steps forward, standing to his full height, which once again stuns him for a second. He’s dressed in a dark leather jacket, bag over one shoulder and is perfectly dry. His hair is what Dimtri knows from Hilda’s ramblings would be considered _tousled_ , and he also agrees that yes, it does definitely make one want to run their hands through it. 

He coughs, and looks away. An entirely inappropriate thought for a stranger. 

“Did you not bring an umbrella? Poor thing, here,” he says, and Dimitri steps back as a black long umbrella is pushed towards him. 

“O-oh no, I’m not going far and I’m already wet,” he says, but the man shakes his head. 

“No use making it worse though, and I don’t need it. Can’t have you getting sick now, can we, gorgeous?” 

That word again. Dimitri splutters, and the man laughs and stands, just as a silver car swerves into the bus stop. 

“My ride’s here. Seriously, take it,” he says, thrusting the umbrella practically into Dimitri’s hand, so he takes it on instinct. 

The man winks. “Hope to see you soon,” he says, then runs to the car, pulls the door open and practically jumps in as the rain hammers down. Dimitri watches with his mouth slightly agape as as the car speeds off. He looks down at the umbrella in his hand, turning it over as he might start to understand what on earth is happening. 

The rain doesn’t stop, so he trudges back to the dorms, ever more grateful for the protection of the umbrella, even if he is already soaked. He peels off his clothes as soon as he gets into his dorm, and immediately steps into the shower. 

He catches sight of himself in the bathroom mirror; he looks like a drowned rat if truth be told, and that’s after shedding the heavy rain-infested coat. He groans and drops his head into his hands as he realises he’d literally shaking out his hair like a dog in front of one of the most attractive men he’s ever seen. 

It’s all ridiculous, he thinks to himself. And now, he’s stuck with an umbrella he cannot return and no information about this person, other than he somehow has access to the dorm and caught a ride at the bus stop. It bothers him more than it should that he cannot give the item back, so he starts looking for sights of this person around campus. Each time he spots a red-head, he tries to covertly check. Except he’s apparently not very good at the covert part, for it’s noticed almost immediately. 

“Dimitri, why are you looking at Annette so intensely?” Ingrid asks, and he jumps.

“That’s Annette? Oh yes, her new hair style is nice,” he remarks, and Ingrid just looks at him, unblinking and still until he caves. 

“I was looking for someone,” he says. 

“Who?” Ingrid asks. 

Dimitri hesitates. “I...don’t know,” he says. Ingrid sighs, before turning and marching to the nearest coffee shop, and Dimitri knows by now he must follow. 

“It’s my treat, sit down. Tea or coffee?” she asks, and he shakes his head. 

“No, don’t be silly, I couldn’t—”

“Dimitri, please. I insist,” she says, and he mentally takes a note to buy her lunch next week. 

“Tea, then. Thank you so much,” he says, and she waves him off, heading to counter while he finds them a table near the back. 

The cafe is calming, and fairly empty, which he knows is why Ingrid picked it. It has a comforting air about it, which he appreciates; he’s no longer in a place in his life where he can’t be around too many people without freezing or needing to run off and isolate himself for days on end, but he still does prefer these types of public spaces to the vibrant and bustling options. He can just about face the two shifts at the bar, and that because it’s a relatively high price one that doesn’t turn into a club, making the space less crowded. 

The scent of chamomile tea is instantly soothing, and he thanks Ingrid as she hands it over. 

“Firstly, are you sure you’re okay working at the bar? Felix and I can fill in sometimes, you know. He said you fell asleep in class last week,” she says. 

Dimitri shakes his head. “I’m fine, thank you. I appreciate the concern though. And Felix also slept through our history lecture last week, so he cannot say anything,” he says and Ingrid laughs, shaking her head. 

“Probably due to talking to Ashe late himself. Not that he’d admit it. Now, who is this person you’re looking for?” she says, and Dimitri winces a little, for he should have known she would get to the point abruptly. 

“Well, I’m a little embarrassed,” he begins, knows his tone his hesitant for what can he even say? That when he’s so exhausted he can barely function this stunning stranger always appears, flirts and helps him, then vanishes without a trace. He’s barely said more than a few sentences to the man, and acted like an absolute fool every time. 

Ingrid waits, though, patient and steady, the complete antithesis to Felix, who by now would be chomping at the bit to get the truth out. So he sighs. 

“I met someone,” he begins, and Ingrid’s entire face lights up and he shakes his head in protest. 

“Sorry, sorry. You just haven’t talked about anyone new in a long time, I’m happy,” she says and Dimitri grimaces. 

“Well, you haven’t heard the rest,” he says, and launches into the tale before his nerves can forsake him. 

Ingrid listens with rapid fascination, nodding slowly, and eyebrows knitting together part way through. Dimitri leaves out a few of the more embarrassing aspects, but pieces together the general description of the man and their nightly meetings. Once finished, Ingrid continues to stare at him, the slowly places down her cup. 

“That’s Sylvain.” 

“That’s who?” Dimitri says, completely taken aback by the response. 

Ingrid frowns. “Sylvain? Surely you’ve met him before. Although perhaps not… he’s a post-grad, and he’s the Resident Adviser for a dorm which must be yours; he’ll be living on a different floor. He’s friends with Felix—they both went to that sports camp in high school. Probably why you didn’t mean him, you were usually away in the summer,” she says. 

Dimly, he recalls a conversation about a friend Felix kept in contact with and only saw during the summers at camp, but he doesn’t recall any mention of Sylvain in the last three years they’ve been at university. 

“How have I only just met him?” he wonders, and Ingrid smiles a little. 

“I think Felix likes having a friend of his own, weird as it is. I get the feeling he’s proud he made one without you, me or Ashe around. I’ve only met him a handful of times, don’t worry,” she says, reaching out and tapping his hand gently. 

Dimitri nods, as this sounds like Felix—protective in his own way, especially all those years ago when their friendships had been less robust. 

“He’s quite the flirt though, as you’ve seen. I think he used to be a big heart-breaker,” Ingrid adds, and his mood drops suddenly. 

“Ah,” is all he can manage before he takes a sip of his tea, sensation instantly calming even if the taste is barely there. 

Dimitri has never been one for flings; these past few years have been a struggle, his mental health not being in the best shape and at one point in his first year he almost dropped out. But he’s close to graduating, has made up for the barely scraping by grades and is getting back to himself. But being with people isn’t his strong suit. He used to be much more able to meet new people but his mind started laying traps, isolating him and it’s taken work, daily, to even be able to make friends with his dormmates. 

Ingrid and Felix have been here since before he can remember, Ashe since they were in high school. They’ve seen the best and the worst of each other, so it’s easier to keep up and be himself. But otherwise, it’s tough. And romance is another question entirely, so the thought of something without meaning isn’t right for him. 

“Hey, I said used to, did you catch that? Wow, I don’t think I’ve seen you like this in years,” Ingrid says, laughing. 

Dimitri blushes, putting his own cup down. “It’s ridiculous, I know,” he says. 

Ingrid shakes her head. “Everyone gets a little ridiculous when they like someone. Especially when it’s in the early stages,” she says. 

“I have barely spoken to him,” Dimiti says. 

“He left you some of his dinner, Dimitri. He’s trying to get to know you. This is how it starts, awkward and weird,” she says with a knowing smile. 

Dimitri smiles back. “Is it still awkward and weird with Dorothea?” 

Ingrid groans and puts her head in her hands. “Do not start. I’m so bad at this. Worse than you, even,” she says. 

“I bowed as I left the room because I didn’t know what to do with myself,” Dimitri says.

Ingrid bursts into laughter. “You bowed? Of all things, why? Although I can’t talk, I still wake up in a cold sweat thinking about the fact that she was actually asking me on a date last month,” she says with a grimace. 

“How is Felix the only competent one of us?” Dimitri wonders. 

“No, _Ashe_ is competent. Felix is worse than you and I. He’s just lucky Ashe seems to like that,” Ingrid counters and Dimitri doesn’t stop laughing for ten minutes. 

The positivity of the afternoon keeps him going through the rest of his classes. His last class of the day is one of his favourites, and he stretches his back as he leans back in the seats. There’s an audible crack of plastic, and Dimtri jumps, immediately sitting forward with a guilty wince. 

“How many chairs is that now? What is wrong with you?” Felix states, appearing next to him as Dimitri checks the chair to see if he’s completely broken it. 

“I err, think it’s okay, it’s not fully broken anyway,” he says, sitting back up. 

When he does, there’s a coffee just in front of his notes. He smiles but says nothing, for the gesture cannot be acknowledged. He’ll just buy Felix coffee tomorrow, which again won’t be mentioned and the cycle of small gestures will continue. 

“The new draft of the presentation looks fine, after I corrected your appalling grammar. We need to practice it before Tuesday,” he says, and Dimitri nods. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I am free all weekend,” he says. 

“For now,” Felix mutters under his breath, and Dimitri blinks, turning to ask him for clarification when their professor calls the class to order. 

Time moves swiftly in a haze of notes, genuinely being absorbed in the class material and trying to cram in any other information they might need for the presentation on Tuesday. As class ends, Felix checks his phone beside him, makes a ‘tsk’ sound, and puts it away. 

“Ashe?” Dimitri asks, and Felix shakes his head. 

“Just some idiot. You’re done for the day, right?” he asks as they make their way out of the room and towards the building exit. 

“I am. If you’re free, we could—” 

But he stops as they walk out of the history department, and there, lounging against the wall, is Sylvain. Next to him, Felix makes a sound that’s something between a laugh and a groan and walks forward. 

“Sylvain,” he calls, who looks up and grins, while Dimitri is still trying to make his brain work so his legs can move. 

Sylvain pushes off from the wall, only his expression changes when he notices Dimitri is standing behind Felix. His eyes widen and he seems to stand straighter, which causes Dimitri to gain the ability to remember how to walk again. It only takes him a couple of strides to catch up with Felix. 

“Sylvain, Dimitri. Dimitri, Sylvain. You’re welcome, good bye,” he says, then leaves without another word to either of them. 

There’s silence between the two, Sylvain lifting his hand to scratch at the back of his neck in what looks like an almost nervous gesture, so different from what Dimitri’s seen of him so far. Dimitri quickly looks down, checking himself. But he’s fine, for once in a decent state; wearing dark jeans and a blue jumper which is on correctly, his hair half pulled back and brushed. Much better than any previous meeting. 

“So, you’re Dimitri. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Sylvain says finally, and Dimitri winces. 

“I can assure you Felix’s stories probably do not represent me in the correct manner,” he says, suddenly utterly terrified of what Sylvain might have heard. 

To his surprise, Sylain laughs, shoulders shaking. Once again, there is something musical about that tone, the brightness to it that makes Dimitri’s own mouth stretch into a smile. 

“Hey, I dread to think what he says about me. It’s nice to finally know your name,” he says with a wink, and Dimitri is instantly flustered, but tries to cover it well. 

“And yours. I realise I have been incredibly rude when we previously met. It’s good to be able to speak to you properly and see you in the sunlight,” he says, and to his surprise, Sylvain’s own cheeks light up. 

“W-well, you always seem a little preoccupied when we run into each other,” he says, and Dimitri has to resist the urge to cringe, recalling exactly how badly their last meetings have gone. 

“I must return your umbrella and Tupperware,” Dimitri says, trying to move the conversation on. 

“My tupper—okay, so cute. Ah, what are you doing Saturday evening? It’s meant to rain so you can return it. Maybe to that new pizza place that opened last week?” he says, all suave and coolness that has Dimitri both a little nervous and already excited. 

“If it’s raining, what am I meant to do once I return it to you?” he asks. 

“Okay, you got me. How about you consider it the first present I gave you? So, Saturday?” he says, and Dimitri nods. 

“Would 7 pm work?” 

* * *

Back in his dorm, grin ever present, Dimitri types out a message asking Felix what Sylvain’s favourite candy is. After all, if he’s already had a gift, he needs to turn up for their first date prepared. 

Felix replies that he hates Dimitri, and wants nothing to do with their relationship. Ten minutes later he received three different types of candy recommendations. 

Dimitri falls back on his bed with a smile, yawning. He’ll need to catch up on his sleep. After all, he has a date to romance on Saturday. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about Dimivain and FE3H on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)!


End file.
